


In which Remus receives a visitor

by svenskiovich



Series: In which Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are in love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I just want these dog boys to be happy, M/M, more about complex emotions than sexiness much to sirius' chagrin, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 12:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svenskiovich/pseuds/svenskiovich
Summary: There was no precedent for this—no primer on what to do when a (convicted, innocent) mass murderer showed up in the middle of the night at the Scottish cottage you’d exiled yourself to. When the man you’ve spent twelve yearsnotthinking about is now a living skeleton—a skeleton leaning raffishly on the doorframe. “Dog got your tongue, Moony?”~~~~~~Another Sirius/Remus one shot, this time a few months after PoA.





	In which Remus receives a visitor

“Moony.” Remus blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“Hello?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know who was speaking. 

“Moony, Moony, Moony,” the voice continued in the darkness.

It was the middle of the night, and he was in the middle of nowhere—Remus really shouldn’t even have opened the door. A cold wind knifed across the threshold, but Remus’ chest was already so constricted he could hardly inhale in shock. 

“Moony, Moony, Moony,” the dark haired man across the threshold crooned again, cocking his head in a way that made Remus’ stomach twist with memory and denial. There was no precedent for this—no primer on what to do when a (convicted, innocent) mass murderer showed up in the middle of the night at the Scottish cottage you’d exiled yourself to. When the man you’ve spent twelve years _not_ thinking about is now a living skeleton—a skeleton leaning raffishly on the doorframe. “Dog got your tongue, Moony?” Sirius asked fuzzily, affectionately, his hair falling into his eyes the way it always did—except now it hung almost to his waist in matted clumps. 

“I—“ Remus began. But, as if to add to the absurdity of the situation, an actual hippogriff emerged abruptly from the darkness and nosed its way past Sirius. Remus jumped back to let it in without thinking, and it turned a disdainful eye on him as it stalked into his paltry excuse for a living room. He collected himself and bowed carefully—after a moment, the creature inclined its head in return.

“I thought you and Beaky’d get along,” Sirius said lightly, still leaning, as the hippogriff curled up in front of the fire on Remus’ only rug. Remus lit up as he made the connection.

“Wait-- _that’s_ how you escaped. You didn’t run—you flew—you flew on Hagrid’s hippogriff.” Remus paused. “But how did you get down to the grounds without being seen?” 

“I flew,” Sirius lilted. And then he was sliding—Remus grabbed him instinctively—and Sirius Black, former best friend, former mass murderer, collapsed into his arms.

 

~~~

Sirius woke up the way he’d woken up for months now, his cheek pressed on a warm clump of feathers. Something was different though—the weight. He inhaled sharply and grabbed at whatever was holding him down, trapping him—a fistful of fluff—he kicked it off. Buckbeak grumbled next to him, his head under a wing, and Sirius realized it wasn’t a trap; it was a blanket. He looked blearily at the clump his fist was still gripping and tried to calm himself down. He hadn’t slept with a blanket in twelve years. He made sure none of it was touching him before he drifted back asleep.

When he woke up again, the blanket was gone. He blinked furiously, automatically checking for danger. Instead, he saw Remus sitting in a ragged armchair, his eyes flickering at him over the edge of a book.

“I hate it when you do that,” Sirius lied, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Do what?” Remus asked from behind his book.

“Watch me sleep.” Sirius could almost see Remus raise his eyebrows.

“Is aggressive flirting your go-to defense even when you’re genuinely dying of malnutrition?” 

“Not usually. You bring it out of me.” Sirius was going for charming, but also his head felt like it was full of fog, so he wasn’t sure if it landed. Remus carefully placed a scrap of paper in his giant book and eased it shut. Flecks of grey in his hair and even more worry in his eyes, but he still closed books in the same reverent way.

“Three things,” Remus said authoritatively. Sirius raised his eyebrows at this new tone. “One, you need more sleep.”

“So you can keep staring at me?”

“Two, you need vegetables. Fruit. Some manner of nutrition.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sirius bristled. “I eat as many squirrels as I want these days.”

“As I’ve reminded you on multiple occasions, Padfoot, you’re not _actually_ a dog.” Sirius paused, suddenly remembering another thing that had dwindled to nothing in Azkaban. He did used to say that. And then, in response, Sirius would lick him on the face. “Three, you need a shower. Or a bath. Preferably both.” Sirius cocked his head.

“I had a good swim a week ago.”

“Sirius, you smell like holy hell. And I think you’ve gotten fleas on my only rug.”

 

~~~

Remus should’ve known this wouldn’t work. His shower was a dodgy trickle on the best of days, even worse in winter, and now there was a woozy, destructive, mutt of a man covering his tub with black footprints and getting none the cleaner for it.

“It’d be more effective if you just stood here and spat on me,” Sirius growled, peeling off his shirt. “This shower _works_ for you after a full moon?” 

“You have to be a bit, um, patient with it.” Remus grabbed the shirt as it fell and compulsively threw it in the trash.

“Maybe if you just ripped it out of the wall,” Sirius mused, gripping the showerhead with an alarming firmness. Remus grabbed his wrist and guided it away.

“I have an idea. But I’m only going to help you if you _don’t_ destroy my house.” Sirius sat down petulantly, right in the tub, and the water drabbled forlornly on his toes. Remus wanted to tease him for it, and then he remembered that a few months ago he’d been wholly convinced that this man had murdered thirteen people for fun. He went to get a bucket.

When he got back, Sirius was standing again, just as forlorn, but now, of course, naked. His body wasn’t his own—it couldn’t be—it belonged to a torture victim, a prisoner. Remus threw away the rest of his clothes and lodged the bucket under the water, where it filled slowly with a loud patter. Sirius looked woozy and out of it again. When the water reached halfway up the bucket, he plunged his head in, slinging water through his hair and down his neck—Remus didn’t stop him. Instead, he waited until he was done, poured out the grimy water, and started the process again.

“Next time I’ll pour it on you, ok?” Sirius nodded and sat down in the tub. “Do you mind if I cut your hair off?” Sirius looked up at him, strangely tentative.

“You can.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius nodded. Remus retrieved his sharpest shears and kneeled on the tile while the water drummed into the bucket. He carefully laid the scissors on the side of the tub. “They don’t scare you, right?” Sirius shook his head.

“Dementors don’t need sharp objects.”

Remus tried not to think about that, tried not to think about the decade of pain that lay between him and his friend as he sheared off a matted clump of black hair. When the bucket filled again, he dumped it over Sirius’ head—he shook it lustily, like a happy dog—and Remus put it back under the tap and started on another hopelessly tangled section. He could hear Sirius breathing raggedly in and out, like he was crying, but there were no tears.

“Are you ok?”

“Of course,” Sirius said gruffly. Then, after a few moments. “Is this real?”

“Yes,” Remus said gently. He worked the scissors through another clump—it was oddly satisfying work. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of what seemed like moving insects in the tangles, which he determinedly ignored.

“Is this sexy?”

“ _No_ ,” Remus said firmly, grabbing the bucket again and dumping it on his head.

 

~~~

It took over an hour, Sirius scrubbing himself and Remus dousing him with water whenever possible—he’d apologized profusely when the hot water ran out, and Sirius laughed aloud between shivers because he’d only ever had access to cold water for as long as he could remember. When he finished with his hair, Remus kept silently handing him different grooming devices—Sirius found himself cutting his nails, shaving, conditioning his hair (“Since when did you use _conditioner_?” he meant to ask, but he kept forgetting.), and brushing his teeth with magical toothpaste that was so minty it hurt. It made him feel vulnerable to be this clean—filth and ill health were protection; they could make almost anyone look straight through you—but he obeyed Remus unthinkingly. His careful attention rendered him defenseless. 

Finally, Remus decided they were finished. Sirius leaned back and closed his eyes in relief when the drumming of the water finally ceased.

“Up,” Remus said. Sirius made his way to standing—there wasn’t any more water, but it somehow felt like he was swimming—and Remus wrapped him in what felt like four different towels. After a moment, he felt Remus scrubbing his hair dry with the ends of yet another towel—Sirius wanted to melt at the perfection that was Remus intently scrubbing his head. He was so tired now, but Remus was insisting that he get out of the tub and put on warm clothes. Sirius got stuck trying to decide whether to harass Remus for giving him briefs or to ask him to touch his head again. He did muster the strength to make fun of the wool cardigan Remus brought him.

“I look like a grotty professor,” he managed as Remus led him back to where Buckbeak was grooming himself by the fire.

“You look like you haven’t had a square meal in six months.”

“You become a shell of a person _one time_ and you never hear the end of it.” Sirius saw Remus’ worried eyebrows as he settled back against the hippogriff’s warmth. “Come off it, Moony,” he said fuzzily, reaching for his cheek and missing.

“You should’ve headed south and stayed there. It would’ve been much easier on you. Why on earth did you come this far north?” Sirius closed his eyes contentedly.

“Don’t worry, Moony. I found you.”


End file.
